The Daughter of Fire And Greed
by LazyPandicorn
Summary: Cestai is the daughter of the dragon Smaug, a greedy beast that has lived underneath the Lonely Mountain for decades. But when Thorin and his company arrive to reclaim their homeland, things get a bit more complicated. Thorin's initial hatred towards Cestai and her father begins to change as he realizes the horrifying truth of their past.
1. Chapter 1: A Dragon's Love

_Once upon a time, a dragon fell in love._

 _Now, this was a very unusual occurrence, as dragons hardly ever love anything except themselves (and perhaps gold)._

 _But what made this particular instance so unusual, was that this dragon didn't fall in love with another dragon, as would have been accepted by the dragon community._

 _No, this dragon fell in love with a dwarf._

 _Well, she was half-dwarf really. She was also half-skinchanger, meaning that she could change from a stout, brown-haired dwarf into a magnificent, orange dragon at will._

 _The half-skinchanger was named Ryla, a name that had been given to her by her Dwarven mother._

 _Ryla loved the dragon, and the dragon loved her. They would fly together in the night skies, the dragon's red body and Ryla's orange body brushing past clouds and floating amongst stars._

 _But as you may or may not know, few good things last._

 _There was a Dwarven kingdom called Erebor, built deep within a mountain. Ryla was taken captive by the king's army and locked up in an iron cell. The dwarves tortured her, and made her change back and forth between her two forms, laughing and pointing at the frightened skinchanger as if the pain she was undergoing was an entertaining show._

 _The dragon, as you can imagine, was devastated, and pained, and angry. Very angry. All he knew was that he needed to get Ryla out of there, and that the dwarves needed to be stopped. So, on one sunny afternoon, he tore through the lands, ripping and burning his way through the cities that lay in his path._

 _One of these cities was called Dale. When the dragon's angry, scorching fire blazed across their homes and shops, burning their families and neighbors to ash, their screams alerted the dwarven guards of Erebor to the coming danger._

" _Dragon!" a young, dark-haired dwarven prince yelled, his warning causing great chaos to erupt inside the mountain. Dwarves scuttled about, frantically trying to grab as many valuables and pieces of gold as they could before running out the back door of the mountain._

 _But few were lucky enough to make it out alive._

 _The dragon's fire was blazing, his claws razor-sharp, his fury great. He barged through the iron doors to the mountain without much of a struggle, his anger and desperation fueling him forward, towards Erebor, towards the mountains of gold, towards the king, towards Ryla._

 _Ryla. She was what truly made the dragon do what he did on that horrible, unforgettable day. She was the reason why he knocked the dwarven guards aside, why his fiery breath consumed the lives of so many. She was the reason why he stole the kingdom of Erebor, snatching the Arkenstone from the greedy hands of King Thror, and sending the dwarves scurrying from their home like mice from a great, hungry cat._

 _But the dragon didn't stop to count his gold or to gaze upon the beautiful, shifting colors of the Arkenstone. Instead, once all of the dwarves were gone, he searched the great halls of Erebor, looking for Ryla._

 _When he found her, she was weak, her body stuck halfway between that of a dragon and a human._

" _Ryla," the dragon breathed, placing his huge wing over her shuddering, broken body._

 _Ryla only looked up at him, her bright amber eyes shining with tears. "I am pregnant," she rasped, and even though her voice was pained, the dragon could see the happiness in her face. "You're going to be a father."_

 _The dragon was saddened to see his love in such despair, in such pain, but he knew that the health of the baby growing inside of her was too important to ignore. So, he cared for his wounded Ryla, rocking her distorted form back and forth as she slept fitfully, or tending to her ruined wings. All the while, he cursed the wretched dwarves who had done this to her, who had destroyed her._

 _It is sometimes said that as one life ends, another begins. And although Ryla died from the strain of birthing such a unique baby, her new child was healthy and safe. The dragon grieved for his Ryla, caressing her scarred face tenderly with his claws._

 _But there was a baby to care for, and the dragon knew that she would be subject to the same scrutiny, the same danger, that her mother had been. So he closed off all possible entrance to the old dwarven kingdom, and made sure that no one could make it in or out of Erebor. No one, not even his newborn daughter._

 _His daughter was different, different from the human girls the dragon had seen. She had inherited her mother's shinchanging abilities and many of her Dwarven traits, and was able to turn from an auburn-haired, amber-eyed, dwarf-sized girl into a magnificent, sunset-colored dragon at will. The dragon thought his daughter was a beautiful, kind, and special being, and made sure to raise her to the best of his ability._

 _There was, of course, talk of the mountain, and the evil dragon that had taken it. Some even theorized that one day, the dwarves of Erebor would return and reclaim their homeland, that they would kill the dragon and take back their riches._

 _But that was a fool's tale, surely._

 _Surely?_


	2. Chapter 2: Boredom Can Be Dangerous

_The lord of silver fountains,_

 _The king of carven stone,_

 _The king beneath the mountain,_

 _Shall come into his hold,_

 _And the bells shall ring in gladness,_

 _At the mountain king's return,_

 _But all shall fail in sadness,_

 _And the lake will shine and burn._

* * *

Cestai loved books. She had dedicated her entire fifty years of life to refurbishing and tending to the books in the old dwarven library. Knowledge, Cestai had learned, was really the only exciting thing in this blasted mountain.

The old kingdom of Erebor had, no doubt, once been an interesting, lively place. But now, with all of it's cheer, and music, and laughter gone, it was definitely lonely.

Despite the lack of contact with other living beings, Cestai had made sure to educate herself well over the last few decades. Her father didn't seem to care whether or not she learned how to read fluently, or how to write well, or even how to speak eloquently, but Cestai certainly did. Once she had finished reading the books on language, she went on to read about history. And then botany, and then architecture, and then animals and then so many other topics, all of which Cestai found utterly fascinating.

Perhaps it was her isolation that made Cestai believe that reading about the various types of animal dung was absolutely intriguing, but all there was to be said about Cestai's intensive reading, was that she was never bored.

Or, she never had been bored. Now, forty years after she had picked up her first book, she found herself looking around at the shelves of old dwarven volumes, and couldn't find a single one that she hadn't yet read.

For the first time in her entire life, Cestai was bored. Extremely bored.

"I've read you, I've read you, I've read you…" Cestai strode through the library, pointing briefly at each book and determining whether or not she had already read it. Which, of course, she had. She had read every single book in this massive library, and had even learned how to read ancient Dwarvish and ancient Elvish and every other type of ancient language so that she could read the old scrolls in the foreign section of the library.

Sighing, Cestai slumped into one of the red chairs that decorated the corners of the library and watched the tiny particles of dust float down and rest on the tops of the old furniture or on top of the shelved books.

As she watched the dust settle, Cestai found herself wishing, not for the first time, that something exciting would happen to her. After years of reading books about the outside world, she longed to visit a place outside of her closed-in mountain, to battle an orc, or to speak to an elf, or to gaze upon the city of Minas Tirith.

But every time she approached her father about visiting the outside world, he shook his head so vigorously that the entire mountain rumbled a little.

"No, Cestai," her father would say, his voice stern. "The world outside of this mountain is dangerous. You must never leave here, do you understand?"

"Yes," Cestai had always said, bowing her head, finding it best not to disagree with him. Her father, as a fully grown dragon, was at least a hundred and fifty feet tall, and Cestai, as a cross between a skin-changer and a dwarf, was only the size of a slightly taller dwarrowdam. What made her look even less significant was her slenderness, a trait that had been passed down to her from her mother, or so her father said.

The result? Cestai looked like nothing more than an auburn-haired, amber-eyed, twelve-year-old human girl. Which is exactly what _everyone_ wants to look like when they're supposed to look like an adult.

Now, however, Cestai would have given anything to visit the outside world that her father spoke of as being so dangerous. Even facing an army of angry goblins would be more interesting than sitting here in this dusty library for the rest of her life.

All of a sudden, a great rumbling noise trembled beneath her, causing Cestai to jump. After years of prolonged silence, any sudden noises still frightened her.

"It was probably just a piece of stone falling, or something," Cestai told herself, her heart pounding.

Carefully, she crept out of the library to alert her father to the noise. But the dragon was nestled deep within his mountain of gold, and she knew there was no use trying to wake him. Biting her lip, Cestai contemplated running back to the library and barring the door, but decided on investigating the noise instead.

 _What's the worst that could happen?_ She tried to dismiss her doubtful worries from her head. _You're probably just overreacting. Just a piece of stone falling, like you said._

Cestai left the Great Hall where her father was dozing, and slunk to the back corridor, where she was pretty sure the sound had come from. This was strange, because the corridor went on for awhile, and then ended at a smooth wall of stone. A dead end, Cestai knew, was all that was at the end of this passage.

But she decided to keep going anyways. Silently, she crept along the corridor, keeping her back pressed to the slick stone. She could hear voices up ahead, soft voices, that sounded joyful. Or was that just her imagination? Carefully, she positioned herself in the shadows so that she could hear the voices more clearly, but could not see anything or be seen by anyone.

"I can't believe it!" one voice said.

"Hush," another voice scolded. "You'll wake the dragon!"

 _The dragon?_ Cestai was utterly puzzled. Were they talking about her father? And how did these people even get into the mountain in the first place? Her father had told her that all passages and entrances leading in or out of the mountain had been sealed off a long time ago.

"After so long," a different voice spoke up. "We're actually here. I just can't bring myself to-"

Cestai accidentally moved her foot a little to the left, causing the sole of her shoe to scrape loudly against the stone floor. Inwardly cursing herself, she waited, hoping the owners of the voices would just dismiss the noise.

"Did you hear that?" the first voice asked, and Cestai heard a scuffle of boots as someone stepped nearer to her.

"Was it the dragon?" A new, fourth voice, now.

All of a sudden, a bright light illuminated the passage, and Cestai found herself able to see the people who had been speaking. A group of… dwarves? They were all wearing adventuring clothing, and held weapons in their hands. The one who was holding the bright lantern had a white beard and, judging by his age, seemed to have been the owner of the second voice.

Unfortunately, now they could also see her.

"Who are you?" the dwarves asked her, their perplexed, suspicious voices sounding in unison.

Cestai opened her mouth to speak, but no sound came out.

"Speak!" a dark-haired dwarf with a sterner face than the rest of them spoke out. Cestai couldn't help but recall a drawing she had seen once in a book, of the prince of Erebor, Thror's grandson, when she saw him. But they couldn't be the same-could they?

* * *

 **Thank you for reading! 3 I'd like to thank all of you who followed and favorited and reviewed this story even on it's first day of being just a wee, baby story. You guys are the bessssttttt!**

 **Also, just to clarify, since Cestai is half-dwarf, she is fifty years old in terms of dwarven time. So, as you may or may not know, being fifty years old as a dwarf is considered to be pretty young (young adult). The average lifespan of a dwarf is around 250 years, to give you an idea.**

 **Reviews, follows and favorites mean the world! 3**


	3. Chapter 3: Kill the Dragon, Of Course

"I…" Cestai stammered, desperately wishing she hadn't been naive enough to come looking for the origination of the strange sound all by herself.

The stern-faced dwarf took a step closer to her, his sword raised to her trembling throat. "I said," he hissed. "Speak!"

"I'm… I'm… I mean…" Cestai had never spoken to anyone besides her father before, and so when confronted with an angry, sword-wielding dwarf, she couldn't help but freeze up. "My name is Cestai," she finally forced out of her mouth.

"Cestai?" the dwarf repeated, cocking his head. "I have not heard a name like that before. Where are you from?"

"I'm from here," Cestai said after awhile, for that was where she was from, wasn't it? Even if she had once lived somewhere else, she no longer remembered.

"That's ridiculous," the dwarf laughed. "You're not from here."

"I've lived here my whole life," Cestai protested, brows furrowed.

"Your whole life?" the dwarf exclaimed. Behind him, Cestai could see that the other dwarves were just as perplexed.. "But…"

"If you've lived here for your whole life…" the older, white-haired dwarf said slowly. "You wouldn't happen to know…" he paused, and laughed at himself. "It's a ridiculous thought, but you wouldn't happen to have known a dragon? One named Smaug, perhaps?"  
Cestai wanted to shriek with delight. "You know of him?" she asked, thrilled that her father was aware that these strange intruders were coming. Perhaps he had invited them! Her suspicion regarding the company of dwarves vanished. They already knew who her father was, so there was no reason to believe that they would hurt her.

"I know of him," the stern-faced dwarf spat. But his face changed. "Wait, _you_ know him as well?"

"Of course I do," Cestai laughed. "He's my father!"

The dwarves gaped at her, their eyes wide with confusion and surprise.

"What?" at least six of them, including the dark-haired dwarf, cried at once.

"What do you mean, 'what'?" Cestai asked. Now she was confused. If her father truly had invited these dwarves to come and visit, surely he would have told them about his daughter… wouldn't he?

"This is not a time to jest, _girl_ ," a balding dwarf with a tattooed head and a double-ended axe growled. "What you suggest is preposterous."

Furrowing her brows, Cestai looked blankly at the dwarves. "I don't understand," she said. "My father didn't invite you?"

A pair of younger dwarves laughed at her question, the one with blonde hair punching the other dark-haired one with an expression that said, "Can you believe this girl?"

But at that moment, a deep rumbling emanated from within the mountain. "Cestai!" a low, exasperated voice called. "Where are you?"

"Was that…?" the stern-faced dwarf turned to look at the others, their expressions a combination of horror and terror.

"That's my father," Cestai explained. "He must be looking for me. I'm sure he'd love to meet you, too!"

The initial shock on the dwarves' faces changed, and they let loose an angry battle cry and charged past her, brandishing their weapons aloft.

"Umm…" Cestai peered after them, utterly confused. As the lantern-wielding, white-haired dwarf left, the corridor flooded with darkness.

Almost as quickly as the lantern-light had vanished, a new light, this time one from a slightly smaller oil lamp, appeared behind her. Turning, Cestai found herself looking into the eyes of a curly-haired dwarf.

Wait… he wasn't a dwarf. His face was too angular, and he bore no beard.

"You're a hobbit!" Cestai exclaimed, pleased with her memory. She remembered reading a book about the Shire once, and had enjoyed learning about the hairy-footed, food-loving hobbits that inhabited it.

"Well, of course I am," the hobbit said, annoyed.

"Are you with them?" Cestai asked, gesturing back along the corridor, indicating the direction in which the dwarves had charged.

"Yes," the hobbit confirmed. "And I probably should follow them now, so if you'll excuse me…" he made a move to walk past her down the corridor.

"Wait," Cestai held out an arm to stop him. "What are you and the rest of the dwarves doing here? I mean, no one has _ever_ come here before."

"We're here to take back Erebor," the hobbit said simply, as if it were obvious. "And, kill the dragon of course." And with that, he ran off down the hallway, his feet making no sound as he rounded the corner.

"Kill the…" Cestai repeated, horrified. "Oh my god," she whispered, taking off at a sprint after the hobbit. Her father needed to be warned.

* * *

 **Aww, poor Cestai has absolutely no idea what's happening! :P Don't worry, she becomes much more of a badass character later on.**

 **Reviews, follows and favorites are all greatly appreciated! 3 Thank you to everyone who has made the decision to follow!**


	4. Chapter 4: The Transformation

Cestai's biggest advantage was that she had lived in Erebor for her entire life and knew the mountain's winding passages and corridors like the back of her hand.

Sure, the dwarves might have lived here before (or so they claimed… Cestai still wasn't completely sure who they were or what they were doing here), but their memory of the mountain's secret underground passage. The passage was the most direct route from one side of the mountain to the other, and Cestai knew that speed was essential in warning her father of the coming danger.

As she dashed down the passage, she heard the pounding of footsteps above her. The dwarves were already in the old dining hall, she realized. _They're faster than I thought they'd be_ , Cestai remarked, panting slightly as she picked up her pace.

Part of Cestai's life inside the mountain had included physical training from her father, where she had practiced running, increased her agility, and learned how to use a sword.

Thankfully, her training seemed to have paid off. Cestai beat the dwarves to the Great Hall with a few moments to spare, judging by the echoes of their footsteps. She dashed up the back stairs to the hall, thankful to find her father sitting upright in his massive gold pile, unharmed.

"Papa!" Cestai cried. Her father turned to look at her, his pupils dilated in a way that Cestai had never seen before. "There are-"

"I smell dwarves," the great dragon hissed, his forked tongue flicking out of his mouth. "Filthy, cruel, rotten… _dwarves_."

"They're coming to kill you, Papa!" Cestai exclaimed, panic in her voice.

"I'd like to see them try," her father growled, crouching low into a battle position.

"Please, Papa," Cestai begged. "Let's go somewhere safe. You haven't fought in years, Papa. I don't want you to get hurt."

"I can handle that dwarvish filth," her father said, his voice full of hate. "Oakenshield and the rest of his wretched company will die on this day, mark my words. They will pay for what they and the rest of their cursed race did."

 _Oakenshield_ … Cestai thought back to the sketch she had seen of the young prince of Erebor. So she had been right-this mysterious, stern-faced dwarf was, indeed, Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror.

At that moment the company of dwarves came storming into the hall, their axes, swords and other various weapons held aloft. Several of the dwarves stopped short, gaping in fear at the sight of the angry, battle-ready dragon sitting before them. But Thorin, Cestai saw, held his ground.

As Cestai watched her father and Thorin stare at each other, she saw an identical hatred mirrored in their eyes, each one glaring mercilessly at the other. _Something happened between these two_ , Cestai realized. _But what?_

"Oakenshield," her father roared. "How dare you set foot in this mountain?"

"I have come to take back what is rightfully mine," Thorin said, his voice echoing off the walls and high, arched ceilings of the hall.

"What is rightfully yours?" her father sneered, a cruelty in his voice that Cestai didn't know his usually calm and soothing voice was capable of. He advanced on the company of dwarves, the glow of an upcoming burst of fire emanating from his underbelly. "The only thing that belongs to you, Oakenshield, is your death. Which I will gladly give to you." He opened his mouth wide and out flared a giant storm of flames, grazing the end of Thorin's robes as the dwarf prince and his company rolled out of the way of her father's fire.

Thorin threw his double-ended axe at her father with a tremendous battle cry, but the axe only bounced off her father's shield-like scales as if it were a tiny fork instead of a mighty axe.

The mere action, although it didn't harm her father, lit an angry fire inside of her. And when Cestai got angry, she transformed. She felt her human skin harden into tough, orange scales, and saw her fingernails sharpen into razor-like claws. Her hearing and eyesight radically improved, her human senses seeming like a blurry haze compared to the crisp, clear sounds, sights and smells she experienced now. Roaring, she reared up, enjoying the sound of her cry ricocheting off mountains of gold in the hall.

Thorin turned to look at her, his eyes wide, whether from horror, disgust or shock, Cestai wasn't sure. But there wasn't anytime to think about that now-without missing a beat, Cestai charged at the company of dwarves, preparing to unleash another fiery blast.

The company of dwarves shrank from her, dispersing like frightened mice. Cestai enjoyed watching them flee before her, enjoyed watching their eyes glint in fear and despair. She fed off of their terror, loving her power and dominion over these feeble, petty dwarves.

Now, only Thorin stood before her again, his face equal parts confusion and anger. "Cestai?" he asked, looking deep into her amber dragon eyes.

Cestai felt something, a feeling, inside of her thrum, like the beating of a drum. Her dragon mind zeroed in on the small, dark-haired dwarf in front of her. He looked so desperate to do well for his people, so eager to prove his worth, so… pained. In his eyes, Cestai saw glimmers of guilt and doubt and fear and failure and so many other terrible things, all of them tormenting Thorin's soul. She felt… _sorry_ for him.

With a shake of her head, she shook the thoughts from her mind, returning to the task at hand. _These dwarves tried to kill my father_ , she told herself, tearing the silly thoughts of mercy from her head. _And they need to pay the price_.

Cestai let out another roar, this time blowing a cloud of flames out of her wide, opened jaws as well, watching as the dwarves staggered out of the hall, Thorin following closely after them. Her fireblast had scorched several of the dwarves, as well as Thorin's right arm (the one he used most for fighting, she had noticed). He cradled his arm now, the soft, pained look in his eyes now gone, replaced by the same, burning hatred she had seen earlier when he had looked at her father. As the dwarves left the hall, he turned his head to look at Cestai and her father, his fury clear as day. _You'll pay for this_ , his gaze seemed to say.

* * *

 **A few things I need to explain about that chapter, hehe... :P**

 **First off, Cestai's semi-psycho narration as a dragon isn't how she normally thinks. As a dragon, she has more violent, power-hungry thoughts, because most dragons think that way naturally (at least in my story). The flash of mercy she feels for Thorin before she burns his arm is part of her old, human self kicking in.**

 **Also, I know the dwarves seemed kind of weak and scaredy-cat-ish in this chapter, but that's only because they weren't totally expecting to fight two dragons. They fled at the end, because too many of the dwarves were wounded by both Smaug's and Cestai's fire that it was pointless to try and fight again.**

 **Since this story is only from Cestai's point of view (at least, for now it is), I just felt like I had to explain the motives and reasoning behind the actions of the dwarves. :)**

 **Again, all reviews, follows and favorites are so appreciated! Thank you to everyone who has taken the time to read the story so far!**


	5. Chapter 5: Some Fresh Air

"Thorin, are you sure you're alright?"

His nephews, Fili and Kili, had been pestering him for the last several minutes, constantly checking if their uncle was fine. They had examined his burn marks gravely, wrapping them tightly in bandages. After fleeing from the Great Hall, they had left the mountain the way they had entered-but had made sure to prop the hidden door open with a large boulder.

"I'm fine, Kili," Thorin snapped, exasperated. While he appreciated the concern, it was beginning to get irritating.

"Don't worry, Thorin," Dwalin told him. "We'll kill Smaug soon enough. We just need a better plan…"

"And that girl," Gloin spat angrily. "She seemed so harmless when we met her back at the mountain entrance. Little did we know that she was actually a filthy half-breed."

"Aye!" Oin barked in response to his brother. "I never knew Smaug had a daughter!"

"She's just as witless as her two-faced father!"

"They're both vile, traitorous hellspawn!"

"The girl is unnatural! One can't change from a dwarf girl to a dragon!"

Thorin kept silent, watching as his company bellowed insults at the mountain, as if the two inhabitants inside could hear them. He felt the same way as the rest of his company did, but he was too angry to join in on their shouting. He was too angry to eat. He was too angry to wait for his burned arm to recover. He was too angry to do anything except to go back charging into the mountain and kill the dragon and his wretched daughter.

* * *

"Cestai," her father breathed, his voice a mixture of anger, concern and relief. "What was that?"

"I…" Cestai trailed off, her body slowly transforming back to that of a dwarf girl. "I'm sorry, Papa. I just wanted to-"

"Get yourself killed?" her father roared. "Those thieving, ruthless dwarves could have killed you!" His eyes narrowed, and Cestai saw something in his face change. "I've seen it before."

"Seen what before, Papa?" Cestai probed. Everything was just so confusing now. There was something between the dwarves and her father, but she wasn't sure what.

"That's no concern of yours," her father said evasively, turning his massive body away from her now-shrunken one.

"Papa," Cestai protested, running around to the other side of his body so that she could look up at his eyes again. "Tell me what happened. Why are those dwarves here? What do they want?"

"Cestai," her father sounded so tired now, so unbelievably tired. "Just go to bed. I need some time to think."

"Think about what, Papa?" Cestai looked up at her father, and saw the pain in his great dragon face.

"Please," her father gazed down at her, his eyes pleading. "Go to bed, Cestai."

With a sigh, Cestai stalked off, stomping up the stairs to her bedroom at the topmost floor of the mountain. It had been a long time since she had thrown a tantrum (it had been nearly forty-five years, in fact), but slamming the door of her bedroom now seemed appropriate.

My father is keeping something from me, she thought furiously to herself. He's been lying to me for my whole life. Something happened. And he won't tell me anything.

There were so many things, Cestai realized, that her father had never told her. What had happened to her mother? Why could Cestai change into a dragon? Why did she look so different from both the drawings of dwarven girls and of human girls? Why couldn't she ever leave the mountain? Had she always lived here? If Erebor had once been a dwarven kingdom, why did all of the dwarves leave?

Question after question flooded into Cestai's mind, the arrival of each new one acting like a match, striking against her heart as if it were an entirely flammable wooden block.

My father lies, she told herself over and over again, the thought reverberating throughout her head like the last, fading notes of a gong.

She wished she had answers. She wanted answers. She needed answers. And she couldn't get them.

Unless…

No, Cestai told herself. That's a stupid idea.

But even as she reprimanded herself, she got up from where she had been sitting on her bed, and walked over to her window. It was the only window Cestai had seen so far in all of her time in Erebor, and she doubted that there were any others. Her room was at the very top of the mountain, so all she had ever been able to see was the dull blue of the sky. But it always been a comforting, and also frightening, thought to know that another world, one outside the confines of this mountain, existed.

She looked through the muddied, grimy glass as far down through the fog as she could. And she saw, faintly, the outlines and blurry shapes of a group of figures situated just outside the mountain.

Her heart leapt. The initial fury she had felt towards the dwarves had now been replaced by pure curiosity. If her father wouldn't give her answers, perhaps the dwarves, the only other people she had ever met, would help her.

No, she scolded herself again. They won't help you. You nearly burned their leader's arm off. They'll kill you in an instant.

"But…" she whispered, smiling slightly. "They don't have to know it's me."

* * *

Later that night, when Cestai was certain that her father was asleep in the Great Hall, she crept carefully and soundlessly out of her bedroom and down the stone steps of the mountain, heading for the hidden passage that the dwarves had opened when they entered the mountain.

Her plan, which she had haphazardly formed that afternoon, relied heavily on her skin-changing ability, in which she was not entirely confident. Skin-changers have not only the ability to transform into animals, but also other humans. However, these human transformations are much more complicated than regular animal transformations, and require much more energy and focus to maintain.

Cestai's idea was to act as a harmless, aimless woman looking for shelter, and to stumble upon the dwarves, seemingly by accident. She would then convince them to trust her and let her camp with them, and then probe them for answers to her questions. It was a dangerous, risky and also likely stupid plan, but she was so anxious for adventure and answers that she didn't really care anymore. She didn't want to be cooped up in this mountain for a second longer.

Silently, she tiptoed past the massive sleeping form of her father, trying to ignore the pang of guilt and sadness in her heart as she crept past him. This would be the first time she had ever disobeyed his orders to stay inside the mountain. The thought of the danger and uncertainty that awaited her as soon as she left the safe walls of Erebor caused her to doubt the cleverness of her plan. Her father had just entered one of his long sleeps, meaning that he would be asleep for several days. Of course, if one of the dwarves came charging into the mountain, he would be awakened in time to defend himself, but she doubted he would wake up otherwise. At least, she hoped he wouldn't. She'd likely need to stay with the dwarves for several days, and if her father woke up to find his daughter missing, her plan would be hopeless.

Gulping, she left the Great Hall, expertly finding her way through the deep darkness of the corridors until she found the hall in which she had first met the dwarves. There was a sliver of light at the end of the corridor, which Cestai assumed was from the doorway that the dwarves had opened to enter the mountain. I never knew there was a door here, she mused to herself as she slipped past the great boulder that propped the stone door open.

And just like that, she was outside the mountain.

The air was fresh, fresher than any that Cestai had ever breathed. But she made up for the lost time by heaving in massive gulps of the cool, night mist, closing her eyes and enjoying the slight breeze that ruffled her hair and clothes.

Around her, the landscape was scarce-a few trees off to her right, but mainly there were just boulders and massive rocks. She hadn't thought the land outside the mountain would be so bare, but even the barren, grey rocky cliffs seemed like an amazing, new world compared to the dark, musty mountain that she had seen as her home for the entirety of her life.

Gazing with wonder at the world around her, she saw faint lights in the distance, over a large body of water. Laketown, she knew, recalling a geography book she had read a few years back.

This is amazing, she thought, turning in a slow circle, taking in every detail, every small part of this new place. She loved it, this feeling of being so free.

But she had something else to do other than bask in the glory of the world around her. Focus, she reprimanded herself. It's time to transform.

Looking around her, she noticed that the dwarves lay in sleeping bags behind one of the larger boulders. Checking that they were all sleeping soundly, she snuck past them towards a small river that ran past and around the mountain. Crouching by the water, she peered at her reflection, at her messy auburn hair, at her unnaturally bright amber eyes. A freak of nature, she knew. I'm not natural.

And now, she could finally change that.

Closing her eyes, she felt herself start to transform. This transformation felt so different from becoming a dragon. Instead of scales erupting on her skin, she felt a faint tingling throughout her skin, inside her eyes, sliding over her hair. She had never done a human transformation before, and these strange feelings were completely new to her.

Opening her eyes, she looked back at her reflection, suppressing a gasp. Her skin had tanned ever so slightly, her hair darkening to an almond-colored brown. Her bright eyes had changed into glinting, dark ones, and her thin lips had grown fuller.

I look so different, she breathed. She held up her newly transformed hands, surprised that her mind still controlled these unknown, alien-looking limbs. How could this body belong to her?

Standing, she stumbled a little, the new legs causing her to be a little disoriented. Righting herself, she peered back at the sleeping dwarves. Hopefully, she could hold this transformation long enough to get the information that she needed. Already, she could feel her muscles tightening from the strain of the transformation.

Phase two of her plan sprang into action: waiting around until dawn so that she could make her "accidental" entrance to the dwarves' camp. Cestai secured a spot behind a boulder and waited, peering up at the dark, star-dotted sky with awe. The world was amazing. Why would her father ever want to keep this beautiful place from her? How had she never had the nerve to leave the mountain sooner? How had she lived without knowing that such an amazing place existed just outside her foggy window?

* * *

 **Faves, follows and reviews are all appreciated! 3**


	6. Chapter 6: Going Undercover

**IMPORTANT: If you have read the previous chapter of this story before 12/10/16, then it is important to note that the chapter has been updated. Please reread the chapter (Chapter 5) again, as important details and plot elements have been updated drastically. The first half of the chapter stayed more or less the same, but the direction of the plot changed in the second half. Sorry for the inconvenience! I didn't really like where the story was going, so I decided to rewrite the previous chapter.**

* * *

Morning came, it's rays of soft sun falling onto Cestai's sleeping face. Stifling a yawn, she looked around her, confused for a brief moment. Then, the events of the night before came rushing back to her. Looking down at her hands, she found that they still had the tan from the night before. Picking up a strand of her hair and holding it in front of her face, she found that it, too, was also still transformed.

 _Alright_ , she thought to herself. The dwarves, she could hear, were also just waking from their sleep. _It's showtime_.

Taking a deep breath, she crept out from behind the rock, being careful not to attract the dwarves' attention. Then, she bent down, gathered some dirt from the ground, rubbed it on her cheeks, and scuffed her black boots in the ground a few times to make them look more worn.

"Excuse me!" she called, causing the heads of the dwarves to snap towards her.

"Who are you?" Thorin asked, peering at her.

"I'm…" Cestai faltered. She hadn't thought of the fact that she'd need a fake name as well. "Alyssa," she decided, remembering that one of her favorite characters that she remembered reading about had had the same name.

"What are you doing in these lands?" Fili, Thorin's eldest nephew, called to her.

"I am a dwarf from the Iron Hills," Cestai replied, making up the story as she went along. _I really should have thought this through a bit more,_ she inwardly scolded herself. "I was journeying to visit my kin, but I lost my way."

"You are from the Iron Hills?" Thorin asked, curious. "Do you bear any news of Dain Ironfoot?"

 _Dain Ironfoot_ … Cestai racked her brain. She knew Dain was the ruler of the Iron Hills, but she had never found the biographies written about him very interesting. "Err…" she trailed off. "No, I'm sorry. I left the Iron Hills several months ago, and haven't heard anything about him since then."

Thorin's face fell. Cestai found it so odd to see the usually so fierce dwarf with such a crestfallen, almost childlike look of disappointment on his face.

"We can't let a lass starve in the wilderness, uncle," a dark-haired dwarf, Kili, Cestai knew, spoke up. "We should let her stay with us."

"No," Dwalin barked. "We can't trust her! She could be a spy!"

"I am no spy!" Cestai said, defensively. Did dwarves have a habit of doubting everyone that they met? "I am simply looking for shelter."

Thorin and Dwalin still looked wary of her, a fact further enforced by Dwalin tightening the grip on his dual-ended axe.

"I swear, I am not a spy," Cestai said, trying desperately to make the suspicious dwarves believe her. _Try and look helpless and desolate_ , she told herself. _You've been wandering around in the wilderness for months. You need to find shelter. These dwarves are your only help at surviving. Just act._

"Thorin," Balin said. "She seems perfectly harmless. Let's let her stay with us for a few days."

"A few days?" Thorin laughed, although not from kind-hearted amusement. "I plan on killing the dragons before 'a few days' is up, Balin."

 _Killing the dragons_ , Cestai gulped. _Will I ever be able to convince them not to try and kill me or my father?_

"But Thorin," Balin said pointedly. "We have no plan. It will take at least a day or two to formulate a practical, actionable plan."

Thorin growled. "Those wretched beasts need to die, Balin. I'm not going to wait around out here like a coward."

"Thorin," Balin said again. "We need to prepare this time. The dragons have proved to be invincible to our common weapons. A different approach must be made."

"Excuse me?" Cestai piped up. "Are you talking about Smaug?" She thought that maybe if she proved to know some information about the very beast they were trying to kill, they might deem her useful enough to keep around.

"Yes," Thorin said slowly, narrowing his eyes. "Do you know much about him?

"I do," Cestai replied, trying to sound earnest. "I was a scholar when I lived in the Iron Hills, and I studied the lore of Erebor and it's downfall fifty years ago." This, Cestai reasoned, was partly true. Although she had never been to the Iron Hills, she had read dozens upon dozens of books about Erebor, so she wasn't lying completely.

Thorin sucked in his breath. "So you've studied Smaug?"

"Yes," Cestai said, hoping her voice didn't sound as weak and uncomfortable as she felt.

"Do you know of any of his weaknesses? His strengths? How we could kill him?" Thorin probed, hardly trying to keep the eagerness from his voice.

"Yes," Cestai said, even more meekly. For her father _did_ have one weakness, but she doubted that anyone would ever think of it.

* * *

 **Thank you for reading! 3 Any reviews, follows and favorites are so, so, so appreciated!**


	7. Chapter 7: Accepted

"Very well," Thorin said, sucking in his breath. "You may stay with us for two days, Alyssa. After that, you're on your own."

"Thank you," Cestai said, trying to sound as grateful and breathless as she could. "Bless you," she half-sobbed.

"Thorin!" Dwalin exclaimed. "We cannot trust her! What if she works for," he lowered his voice, "Azog?"

Thorin snorted. "I doubt Azog would hire an aimless, half-mad dwarf from the Iron Hills as a spy, Dwalin. Besides, we need the information. As much as I hate to admit it, I don't really know much about Smaug, let alone his daughter."

Dwalin narrowed his eyes, but said nothing, directing his stern, suspicious gaze at Cestai instead.

 _Half-mad?_ Cestai repeated, bristling. _I'm not mad!_ But perhaps it was better if they thought she was crazy-they might see her as less of a threat.

Balin strode over to her and held out a hand, as if to help her back to the camp. As much as Cestai wanted to slap his hand away (she didn't need help _walking_ ), she figured it would be better not to antagonize the dwarf. So, reluctantly, she let him guide her back to the camp, trying to ignore the worried, suspicious glances from Dwalin.

* * *

"Here," Bombur, the round, plump dwarf, handed her a roll of bread and a ripe apple. "You look half-starved!"

Cestai took the food gratefully. She was starving, a fact that was probably accentuated by her thinned frame, a little addition she had added to her body during the transformation so as to make her story about wandering through the wilderness for months on end a bit more believable.

The rest of the dwarves were settling onto the ground around her, sitting in a circle of sorts. Cestai couldn't help but admire the calm, caring manner in which they passed food around, watching as they laughed with each other, her eyes lingering over their wide grins and glinting eyes. It was hard to believe that this group of joyous, happy dwarves was the same company that had come barging into Erebor, attempting to kill her father.

"So," Thorin said, his deep and commanding voice calming the chatter of the dwarves. "We have a new member amongst us," he nodded towards Cestai, causing the rest of the dwarves to turn and look at her, their gazes varying from suspicious to welcoming.

"Thank you for taking me on," Cestai smiled at them. How could she be smiling and thanking the very people who had tried to kill her? She didn't know why, but when she was with these dwarves, she felt a strange sense of warmth, of belonging. _No_ , Cestai scolded herself. _You're just acting. You're just pretending to be kind to them. Once you have the information that you need, you'll help your father burn them alive._

"You used to live in the Iron Hills?" Balin asked, his eyes sweet and curious.

"Err… yes," Cestai stammered.

"You said you left a few months ago?" Balin probed.

"Yes," Cestai nodded again.

"You wouldn't happen to know…" Balin trailed off, shooting Thorin a glance. "You wouldn't happen to know if Dain plans to… err… aid us?"

 _Aid you in what?_ Cestai wanted to ask, but quickly restrained herself. Dain, she remembered reading, was the king of the Iron Hills. "Unfortunately I don't remember," she said, trying to sound as apologetic as possible. "Truthfully, I really don't remember much," she added, laying on her act thick.

Balin's face lost some of it's hopeful glow, turning back to Thorin, who looked away grimly.

"Might I ask," Cestai offered timidly, causing the gazes of all of the dwarves to snap towards her again. "What are all of you doing here?" she finished, attempting to look innocent.

Dwalin's skeptical gaze hardened, but Thorin simply cocked his head. "You don't know?" he asked, confused. "I imagine that it would be well-known news by now, especially in the dwarven community."  
"I feel like I once knew," Cestai said, floundering now, trying to cover up her unnatural question with more pretend memory loss and innocence. "But I seem to have forgotten," she added, her voice high and airy, as if she were in a far-off land.

Thorin looked at her for a moment, his ice-blue eyes seeming less ice-like with each second. As he peered at her, Cestai could feel her heart racing. Was it nerves? Anxiety? She felt the same feeling that she had in that moment when she had been a dragon back in the Great Hall, and Thorin had stood in front of her, his eyes filled with fear and pain and angst.

But the moment hardly lasted for more than a few seconds. "We are here to reclaim our homeland," he said hoarsely.

"Your homeland?" Cestai repeated, glancing warily at the mountain. _The dwarves used to live_ here _? In the mountain? How?_

"Erebor was our home," Thorin explained, his voice catching. Around the circle, Cestai saw some of the other, older dwarves bow their heads slightly.

Cestai nodded. To probe any further, she judged, would draw even more suspicious to herself. And, judging by Dwalin's stern, unmoving glances, that wouldn't be the smartest choice.


	8. Chapter 8: Revealing Information

"Balin," Thorin called, getting up from where he had been sitting. They had silently finished their meal, the dwarves shooting wary glances toward their newfound companion all the while. "I need to speak with you."

The elderly dwarf got up, an act that proved quite difficult for a dwarf of his age.

"And you," Thorin shot a look at Cestai. "Alyssa. I'd like to speak with you as well."

"Me?" Cestai yelped, before she could stop herself.

Thorin looked at her quizzically. "Yes, _you_. Is there a problem?"

"Uh," Cestai stammered, very aware of the confused, suspicious looks that the rest of the dwarves were casting her way. "Oh, um… there's no problem." She gave a weak, forced smile to cover up her surprise. "No problem at all."

Thorin's brows furrowed. "Come with me," he said, leading her and Balin away from the rest of the dwarves. Cestai noticed his hand tighten instinctively around the sword that he kept hooked to his belt.

 _He doesn't trust me_ , she gulped, hurrying to catch up with the two dwarves. _I'm not fitting in well enough. I have to act better._

Behind her, she could hear the faint dubious mutters and whispers of the other dwarves.

* * *

"We need a new approach," Thorin said, once the three of them were safely out of earshot of the others. "Our common weapons do no damage to Smaug's mighty hide. As much as I want to personally hack that wretched beast's head off with my own axe, I'm afraid we must find another way to kill the dragon."

Cestai felt her skin start to prickle, and felt her body begin to change back into it's old form. When she got angry, she began to transform. And she was definitely angry now. _I can't just stand by and let them think of ways to kill my father!_ Her stomach tightened.

But she had to control herself. Before the other two dwarves could notice the change, she quickly bit down on her tongue, something that she had learned often stilled her anger, and felt her transformation cease.

"Are you alright, Alyssa?" Balin asked, peering at her. "You look tense."

"Oh, no, I'm fine," Cestai-as-Alyssa replied quickly, her heart plummeting as she noticed Thorin's look of immense suspicion penetrate her freshly-transformed body.

"Good," Thorin said slowly, his narrowed eyes still holding her own frightened gaze.

"You said you researched and studied Smaug back in the Iron Hills?" Balin prompted, obviously sensing her discomfort.

"Yes," Cestai said eagerly, grateful for the change in subject. _You have to learn to control yourself_ , she urged.

"Did the tomes and scrolls that you read have any information on Smaug's flaws? His weaknesses, perhaps?" Balin asked hopefully. Cestai figured that the dwarves, as fierce as their intentions were, truly didn't know much about the creature they were trying to slay.

Cestai paused, unsure of what to say. She could, of course, tell the truth, but that would mean endangering her father. She could lie, and misdirect the dwarves, but that would endanger _them_. As much as she wanted to hate the dwarves, she couldn't bring herself to support the idea of intentionally leading them to their deaths. Besides, even if she did lie, that would only further their suspicions towards her. And she needed information.

She would tell them a little bit of both, she decided.

* * *

Thorin watched as the dark-haired woman faltered, her body shaking with anxiety. He felt bad for her, for she had likely endured much hardship during her months wandering in the wilderness. But he was also beginning to grow wary of her strange, far-off way of speaking, and her odd questions.

"I have read," the woman, Alyssa, began, her voice edged with a frightened shrillness. "That Smaug had two weaknesses. One," her voice faltered, "Was the dislodged scale on his underbelly."

Thorin sighed. "That does not help us. Only a Black Arrow could pierce that spot, and we are not blessed with such a weapon."

"There was one other," Alyssa continued, and Thorin could see something change in her face. "The books I read never specifically named it, but I was able to make inferences."

Thorin leaned closer. "And? What is this _weakness_?" His heart raced. He had only ever heard of the dragon's dislodged scale, and never of this other theory that Alyssa presented. Could this be the key to finally ending the reign of Smaug?

* * *

Cestai gulped. She had told them about the scale on purpose. She had seen how her father's underbelly bore a spot where the tough scale broke away to reveal the soft flesh underneath. She had asked him about it dozens of times, but he had never told her much. And now… she had heard Thorin say that "only a Black Arrow could pierce that spot." What was a Black Arrow? She vaguely remembered reading about it once, but couldn't recall anything she had read.

But now came the tricky part. She had to reveal enough information to Thorin to allow for him to trust her, but not enough so that they would truly be able to use her information against her father.

Looking back at Balin and Thorin's expectant faces, she knew she had to speak quickly. "I read that Smaug used to live with others inside of Erebor," she began, hoping to drop enough hints so that they would come to the conclusion that she wanted them to figure out "Perhaps if we could capture one of them and hold them hostage, it would distract him to allow you to get close enough to kill him." Saying these words made bile rise in her throat. _I'm betraying my own father_ , she thought.

Thorin's face lit up. "That girl," he said, turning to Balin, who looked equally as excited. "Cestai. If we were to capture her…"

"She was Smaug's own daughter," Balin added. "Losing his daughter would destroy him."

"And maybe that's all we need," Thorin said quickly. "To destroy Smaug from the inside instead of from the outside."

As much as their excitement pained and angered her, Cestai couldn't help but feel a little excited herself. This was her plan. If the dwarves were focused on capturing Smaug's daughter-essentially, her-then they would spend less of their time trying to develop actual ways to kill her father. And if they were looking for Smaug's daughter… well, they'd never be able to find her. Because she was right under their noses, concealed in the body of someone that they now trusted.

And once she got all of the information she needed, she would return to the mountain and would be able to help her father kill the dwarves.

 _But_ , she thought, gazing up at the gorgeous blue sky. _Maybe I'll just stick around out here for a bit longer._

After all, she had years of being cooped up inside the mountain left in her life. What was a few more days spent out here?


	9. Chapter 9: The King And The Madwoman

_And if the night is burning_

 _I will cover my eyes_

 _For if the dark returns_

 _Then my brothers will die_

 _And as the sky is falling down_

 _It crashed into this lonely town_

 _And with that shadow upon the ground_

 _I hear my people screaming out_

 _I see fire, inside the mountain, I see fire_

 _Burning the breeze_

 _\- I See Fire by Ed Sheeran_

* * *

"There's a new plan," Thorin proclaimed, once the three of them had returned to the other dwarves. "We capture the girl."

"The girl?" the dwarves asked in unison, perplexed.

"Cestai," Thorin said, causing Cestai to flinch. _Don't lose cover_ , she scolded herself, digging her fingernails into her palm to stop herself from losing control of her transformation.

"The dragon?" Dwalin asked, tightening his grip on his axe. "I'd like a good swing at 'er."

Cestai gulped.

"No," Thorin interjected. "We don't kill her immediately. We simply hold her hostage. It'll destroy Smaug if his daughter is in danger-he'll do whatever we want."

 _Kill her immediately?_ Cestai bit her lip. _So when_ would _they kill her?_

"How do we even know if Smaug will take the bait?" Dwalin asked. "We don't know that he's very close with his daughter."

"It's his daughter," Thorin said, his voice catching slightly. "Of course he cares about her."

"I didn't know you were such a softie, Thorin," Dwalin spat. At Thorin's defiant bristle, he added, "What I'm trying to say, is that Smaug has proven himself to be a greedy, vicious lunatic. There's no predicting how he'll react to us capturing his daughter."

"And what do we do after we capture her?" Fili piped up. "Is Smaug just supposed to drop dead of his own sadness?"

"Actually," Balin stepped in. "Dragons have been known to suffer great physical pain when they grieve. Perhaps if Smaug truly is close with his daughter, her loss will pain him enough so that he is at least weakened."

Cestai's eyes pricked, tears welling. _They're trying to cause my father as much pain as possible?_ She wanted to scream at the dwarves. She wanted to snatch Dwalin's axe and bash them all over the head with it. But she wanted the information even more.

And maybe, just maybe, her plan would work. And then it would all be worth it.

* * *

Thorin gazed out at the dark sky, the barest spattering of stars scattered throughout the emptiness. It had been a long day, most of it spent with Balin and Alyssa, discussing strategy. The rest of the dwarves had been carefully investigating the closest mountain corridors, searching for information regarding the dragon-girl, being cautious not to venture too close to the Great Hall.

They would execute the main part of their plan tomorrow. Capture the girl. But they had found no traces of her that day, save a few dirty footprints throughout the corridors. But those must have been their own prints from two days past. The truth was, Thorin had no idea how they were going to pull this stunt off. And even if they did succeed, would it even work?

"Hello?"

Thorin's hands flew to his sword, yanking it out of his sheath. Whirling, he readied himself for an attack, relaxing when he saw that it was only the girl, Alyssa, standing behind him. Sheathing his sword again, he sighed. "What is it?" he asked curtly.

"I couldn't sleep," she replied, as if it were obvious.

"Why did you come here?" he grumbled, more than annoyed that his space had been so carelessly violated.

"I've always loved the sky at night," Alyssa said dreamily, stepping next to him. "The stars are really so far away, yet they seem so close."

Thorin turned to look at her, his mouth parted slightly. She seemed so entranced by the stars that he could, for the first time that day, get a real look at her face. The hood that she had been wearing was gone, exposing her dark hair. She was a little shorter than he was, and had the build of a slightly thinned Dwarven woman, one who had not eaten in several days. She was pretty, Thorin noticed, observing the way her dark eyes reflected the pale light of the moon, and the way her skin seemed to glow in the starlight.

But that was silly. She was just a vagrant. A wanderer. A madwoman.

Clearing his throat as though it might clear his mind, Thorin spoke, "You observed the sky often in the Iron Hills?"

"No," Alyssa replied, turning to look at him with her huge, curious eyes. They were full of life, those eyes, full of memories and knowledge and questions. So many questions. "I worked as a scholar in the Iron Hills, so I never left the confines of my chambers. But out here..." She smiled then, a small, sad smile. _Why was she sad?_ "I can see everything."

"Have you ever seen the sky in autumn?" Thorin asked, the scratchiness of his voice surprising him. She turned to him, hanging onto his next words with an almost childlike curiosity. "It flashes bright colors sometimes-beautiful purples and greens."

Alyssa's lips parted slightly in astoundment. "Colors?" she breathed, turning back to the dark sky. "I'd like to see that someday," she whispered softly, another smile gracing her face.

 _I could take you_ , Thorin almost said, before stopping himself. What was wrong with him? Why was he acting so… un-Thorin? Turning away from the woman, he began to stride back towards the camp, his low-hanging head and fast-beating heart full of feelings he had never felt before.

* * *

 **Aww! The second moment of Thorin/Cestai in this story. Their relationship is going to be sort of staggered, due to Thorin's immense pride and self-image, so it might be sort of slow to unravel. Not to mention the fact that he doesn't even know that the woman he thinks he might be falling for is actually the daughter of his nemesis. Tricky stuff... :P**

 **Also, the "colors in the sky" that Thorin was talking about is, in case you didn't get it, the Northern Lights. I'm not sure if they have stuff like that in Middle-Earth but... hey, now they do! :)**

 **Faves, follows and likes are so very much appreciated! Thank you so much for reading!**


	10. Chapter 10: Love

It was the wind that woke Smaug that night.

It was the wind that told him that something was wrong.

It was the wind that forced him from his deep slumber and snapped open his eyes.

Smaug jolted upright, his heart beating faster, faster, faster. _Something is wrong._

The events of the last time he had been awake came rushing back to him. A magnificent orange-scaled dragon shielding him from a scrabble of filthy dwarves. A magnificent orange-scaled dragon transforming into a young, auburn-haired girl.

 _Ryla_ , Smaug thought, remembering the gorgeous color of his wife's scales. _Cestai_ , he thought, for the girl in his memories was surely her.

The name seemed to set off an insistent chirping from the wind. _Cestai, Cestai, Cestai_.

"Cestai," Smaug breathed. It was then that he realized what felt so wrong, why the wind felt so empty, whose perpetual presence had been missing from the air.

He launched himself towards the stairs leading to her bedroom. The stairs seemed so small to him, each step shorter and thinner than any one of his claws. But he gingerly leaned over the staircase so that his face was directly in front of her door. "Cestai," he whispered. "Are you there?"

A silly question. For he knew, in his heart, that she was not there.

Fumbling with the miniscule handle of her door, he finally twisted it open, half-expecting to find his daughter's smiling face hiding behind it, laughing at her father. "I got you," she would say. "You thought I was gone? I would never leave, Papa! Never!"

But it was only darkness beyond the door. Darkness, and a terrible, terrible emptiness.

"Cestai?" he called out, his voice catching with a fear he had only felt once before in his life. "Cestai, please, come out," he sobbed, forcing his head as far as he could through her door and looking around, only to find that it was completely and utterly vacant.

 _I failed Ryla and now I have failed my daughter_ , he thought to himself, his breathing filled with ragged heaves. _My daughter… my dear, dear Cestai…_

Where was she now?

Smaug pulled back from his daughter's empty room, huge tears streaming from his bright orange eyes. _I tried so hard to keep her safe, and yet..._

And so it was, that the great and mighty dragon was broken for the second time.

* * *

"Lady? Are you awake?"

Cestai, assuming that the 'Lady' could only refer to her, especially amongst a camp full of men, sat up, looking around for the speaker. She had only been pretending to sleep, having found it nearly impossible to tear her eyes away from her new surroundings, her senses utterly fascinated by the chilly winds and the chirping of nocturnal birds.

"It's me," the dark-haired dwarf, Kili, if she remembered correctly, was nestled in the bedroll next to hers, his dark eyes wide with excitement. "Kili."

"Hello, Kili," Cestai said awkwardly, unsure of how else to continue the conversation.

"I can't sleep," Kili said, scooting closer. "And I saw you fidgeting, so I thought you might still be awake too."

Cestai bit her lip, yet again left at a loss for words. The way the dwarf looked at her with expectant, puppy-like eyes made her want to laugh, but also made her slightly uncomfortable.

"Everyone here in this company practically raised me," Kili piped up. "I know each of them like I know myself. But I don't know you very well. And I like to know everybody," Kili added, taking a moment to breathe after his torrent of words.

"How long have you known everyone here?" Cestai asked.

"Ever since I've been alive, practically," Kili admitted. "And I'm seventy-seven, so that's a lot of time."

Cestai, having studied Dwarven lore, knew that seventy-seven wasn't very much time at all in Dwarven years, but thought it best not to correct the dwarf's proud self-image. Besides, it wasn't like she was one to talk. By her own calculations, she herself was younger than Kili, standing at a mere fifty years.

"How old are you?" Kili asked, as if reading her thoughts.

"I'm fifty," Cestai confessed, watching the shock form on the dwarf's face.

" _Fifty_?" Kili exclaimed, his eyes widening. His cocky grin straightened into a frown. "That's too bad," he mumbled to himself, seeming to be counting something on his fingers, as if performing some sort of mathematical calculations.

"Too bad?" Cestai probed, confused.

"Uncle is one hundred and ninety-five," Kili explained. "So that complicates things a bit."

"Complicates things?"

Kili gave a mischievous smirk. "You really don't know?"

Cestai shook her head, wondering why she would know what he was talking about.

"My uncle has lived for a long time," Kili said. "But he's never found his One."

Cestai recalled reading something about One's in a book once. They were supposedly your one true love, someone that you were destined to be with. "So?" she asked, impatiently. "How does this apply to me?"  
"Don't be so hasty, Alyssa," Kili laughed, holding up a hand as if to calm her down. "I'm getting there." When she sighed, signalling for him to continue, he added, "I've watched people meet and fall in love with their Ones, and I know what it looks and feels like when you first meet the person you're destined to be with."

"Have you met _your_ One?" Cestai asked, not liking where the conversation was going and eager to direct it elsewhere.

"Well, yes, I think so, but..." Kili trailed off, the glimmer in his eyes dulling for the briefest of moments. "Don't try to change the subject," he scolded, whilst, she observed, changing the subject himself.

"Alright," she smirked.

"Anyways," Kili said, unfazed. "My uncle has lived his whole life thinking he'll never find his One. Until you came along."

"Me?" Cestai laughed, her amusement disguising her alarm.

"When my uncle first saw you, I saw something change in his face. A look that he usually only reserves for me and Fili."

"Hold on," Cestai said, incredulous. "You're saying that some dwarf prince who is nearly triple my age is destined to be my lover? You must be joking."

Kili raised his eyebrows. "There's something between you two. I can sense it."

"Oh, and what are you? A love expert?" Cestai snorted.

"Perhaps," Kili grinned.

"I'm sorry Kili, but… me and Thorin? That…" She trailed off, remembering the mission to kill her father. "That could never happen."

"We'll see," Kili mumbled, easing himself back into his bedroll. "See you in the morning, Alyssa."

* * *

 **Thank you for reading! I'd like to especially thank a Guest reader for suggesting that I do a scene from Smaug's POV when he realizes that Cestai is missing.**

 **Also, I'd like to mention that I'll be using Kili as a sort of trolls-from-Frozen-love-experts/little brother character in the story. I know that Thorin and Kili are basically the only two characters I ever really develop in full detail in any of my fictions, but HOW CAN I RESIST? lol**

 **Please check out my other two stories (both for the Hobbit), Smoke Screen and The Moon's Dream!**

 **Review, fave and follow! :)**


	11. Chapter 11: A King's Promise

_Cestai was in a sort of circular room, with seats surrounding a pit at the center of the space. It seemed to be a performing room of sorts, where shows and music would be played to entertain the dwarves._

 _At the center of the room, however, there was no play or music. There was her father, his scales broken, his feet chained to the ground._

 _Her father beat his wings fiercely, trying to break free of the bonds. But a group of dwarves that surrounded him only pulled the chains tighter. He was muzzled with a great iron contraption, but she could still hear the moans of pain and anguish coming from his throat._

 _There were onlookers in the seats surrounding the pit where her father was, Cestai being one of them. The onlookers were chanting and screaming at the dragon, shouting insults and curses at the ruined beast._

 _Looking around her, Cestai saw that Thorin was seated beside her, his rough, callused palm resting on hers. He was looking at her with those same ice-blue eyes she had grown to know. "Are you ready, my love?" he asked, his voice sounding strange and false, like an echo that had reverberated one time too many._

My love? _Cestai thought, utterly confused._ Where am I? What is this place?

" _Yes," a voice-_ her _voice, Cestai realized-spoke. She had never consciously formed the words in her mind, but she could feel her lips moving, without her consent, speaking words that had never once crossed her mind. "It is time, I think." Her voice was hollow, sounding as fake and off as Thorin's had._

 _Thorin's lips curled into a smile, and, without meaning to, Cestai smiled back._

 _Turning to Balin, who sat on Thorin's opposite side, Thorin whispered something in his ear. The elderly dwarf nodded, and then stood up. At once, the chanting and yelling the stadium ceased._

" _At long last," Balin's voice boomed across the room. "We have captured the terrible beast that slayed so many of our brethren."_

 _A unanimous, sad murmur from the crowds. Next to her, Thorin bowed his head._

" _But," Balin began. "No longer will this wretched monster relish in spilling precious Dwarven blood! For today, we execute the beast, as payment of the ruin he brought on our people!"_

 _The crowds roared in approval. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Thorin raise his fist in the air in excitement._

" _Today," Balin shouted. "We kill the dragon!"_

 _The dwarves around her father stepped aside, allowing for a dark-haired dwarf to step into the fray._

 _It was Kili, Cestai realized with a start. And he was wielding a bow, a huge, black arrow fastened in its string._

 _Standing in front of her father, Kili pulled back the string, the thunderous crowd egging him on._

 _The dragon struggled, pulling and fighting against his chains, desperately trying to find a means of escape._

 _Kili let the arrow fly, the point piercing her father's loose scale with a resounding_ thunk _. The crowds went wild._

 _And Cestai felt no remorse, no sadness, no horror. She felt only satisfaction as she watched her father crumple to the ground, the shouts of the dwarves around her echoing in her ears._

* * *

The shouting was real. The rest of her nightmare was not.

"I swear, I saw-"

"That is impossible, Dwalin!"

"But, I swear, I saw her skin turn to scales! I even saw some wings sprout from her back!"

"You must have been hallucinating."

Cestai opened her eyes slightly, only to see that the entire company was gathered around her bedroll, watching her intently. Thorin and Dwalin, she could see, had been the ones shouting.

"Ah, she's awake," Balin said kindly, although the smile on his face seemed forced and strained.

 _What just happened to me?_ Cestai thought to herself, her body still shaking from the nightmare. She looked around at the dwarves, the images of Balin and Kili and Thorin ordering her father's execution still clear and sharp in her mind.

"W-what's going on?" she stammered, hating how frightened her voice sounded.

"You just turned into a _dragon_ , is what happened!" Dwalin barked, his face turning purple with anger.

 _A dragon?_ Cestai gulped. During the nightmare, she must have lost control of her transformation. How ridiculous she felt, like a child who wet the bed when they got scared. _Why did I lose control?_ Now Dwalin suspected her. Not that he always hadn't, but now especially so. _Are they going to kill me now?_

"A dragon?" she repeated out loud, trying to sound amused. "Why, that's impossible!"

"Not impossible!" Dwalin shouted, his face purpling. "I saw you do it! I saw you turn into a dragon with my very own eyes!" He leaned over and looked suspiciously at her, his face mere inches from her own. "Who are you?" he asked slowly, peering at her the way one might look at an insect they were studying.

"I-I-I…" Cestai stuttered, inching away from the fuming dwarf. Had she really blown her cover so quickly?

"Dwalin!" Thorin snapped, easing the dwarf back, allowing Cestai to breath a sigh of relief. "Leave her alone," he said, a bit more gently.

"Thorin," Dwalin said disbelievingly. "Why are you so quick to dismiss me? Do you not trust me as you once did?" An expression of great hurt crossed his face for the briefest of moments, before his features hardened again into their signature scowl. When Thorin was silent, he turned away, muttering, "I must have been 'hallucinating,' then."

Thorin watched the dwarf leave, the same sadness in his eyes that Cestai had seen in Dwalin's. At last, he turned to Cestai, looking at her frightened face with an almost fatherly expression of compassion. But then he averted his eyes and gace her bedroll a swift kick. "Get up," he said under his breath, stalking off and pulling Balin along after him.

The other dwarves lingered for the briefest of moments, but many of them quickly dispersed, leaving Cestai alone with just Fili and Kili standing around her bedroll.

"Dwalin's getting old," Fili said, his voice comforting. "I wouldn't doubt that he was hallucinating. Don't get worked up over it, Alyssa."

"That's right," Kili added, squatting down next to her. "And Uncle's always like that, yelling orders and kicking things." He gave her a wiggle of his eyebrows. "It doesn't mean he doesn't like you if he does stuff like that."

"Oh, are you still going on about that?" Cestai laughed, making the dark-haired prince smirk. "I told you, there's nothing… there's nothing there."

"Ah, but you hesitated!" Kili said triumphantly, causing her to roll her eyes.

"What are you talking about?" Fili interjected, looking between the two of them.

"Alyssa is Uncle's One," Kili said, suppressing a grin.

Fili gaped, his eyes wide with surprise. "What? Really?" he exclaimed, just as Cestai grabbed a nearby leaf and threw it at Kili in annoyance.

"Definitely," Kili said, pulling the leaf out of his hair with a smile.

" _Not_ true," Cestai butted in.

"You know, I can kind of see that," Fili said after awhile, looking at Cestai with a thoughtful expression on his face.

"Aw, not you too!" Cestai groaned, sighing as the two princes exchanged mischievous glances.

Fili simply shrugged. "Kili could be right," he said.

"He's like, three times my age!" Cestai exclaimed. "Isn't that… I don't know… weird?"

"In Dwarven culture, age is arbitrary when it comes to finding your One," Kili supplemented.

"You know an awful lot about this," Cestai remarked, snorting.

"Kili's found _his_ One," Fili joined in. "That's probably why."

"Really?" Cestai asked excitedly. "Who is it?"

Kili looked down at the ground, drawing swirls in the dirt with a stray twig.

"Come on, Kee," Fili said coaxingly, punching his brother playfully in the shoulder.

"Her name is Tauriel," Kili said after awhile.

"That's such a pretty name," Cestai breathed.

"But she's an elf, so she and Kili can't really… be together," Fili said.

"Why not?" Cestai asked. She had never learned much about Dwarven romance in the library, and was eager to supplement her missing knowledge.

"There's always been a sort of unspoken war between the two races," Fili said. "Ever since, well, ever since they deserted us in the Battle of Azanulbizar."

"The Battle of Azanulbizar?" Cestai repeated. _This sounds important_ , she thought. _Maybe it has something to do with my father, or why these dwarves want to kill them_.

"You don't know about it?" Fili asked, stunned.

"No," Cestai said slowly. _Damnit! Can I not keep my cover at all?_ The Battle of Azanulbizar must have been something important to the dwarves, and by mentioning that she didn't know about it… well, she was only drawing more suspicion to herself.

Fili looked at her for a moment, the confusion plain on his face. But after awhile, he began, "The Battle of Azanulbizar was the battle that took place just after we lost Erebor," he paused, looking behind him to where Thorin and Balin stood, talking. "I wasn't there, but my uncle and Balin, were. They've told me that when they were in the midst of the battle, when their need for aid was dire, the elves appeared. But when they called for help, the king of the elves, Thranduil, ignored them and looked the other way, riding on."

Cestai bit her lip, watching the pain cross Fili and Kili's faces. This story, she realized, was an important one, and one very close to all of the dwarves' hearts. As much as she wanted to know why the battle had even begun, she judged it best not to probe the dwarves any further.

* * *

"Do you believe what Dwalin said? About Alyssa?" Thorin asked, once he had pulled Balin away from the others.

The old dwarf looked back at the woman in question, surrounded by the remaining company members. "I…" he trailed off, his voice cracking. Clearing his throat, he continued, "My brother has the sharpest senses I've ever witnessed."

"So you think Alyssa really did…" Thorin followed Balin's gaze to Alyssa. His nephews were kneeling by her, and talking to her, judging by the animated movements of their mouths.

"I don't know," Balin said quietly. "You may be right. He may have been hallucinating."

"But you don't believe that," Thorin said, recognizing the look of doubt in the dwarf's face. "You think your brother is right."

"And do you not trust him?" Balin countered. "My brother would never lie to you, Thorin. He had never led you astray, not once in all of our years together."

"I just…" Thorin looked back at Alyssa, unsure of why he was at such a loss for words. _Why is it so hard for me to believe Dwalin? Why do I keep trying to deny what he saw?_

"Thorin," Balin began, noticing where Thorin's gaze was pointed. "I like this woman as much as you do-"

"I don't _like_ her," Thorin protested, downcasting his eyes.

"-She's quirky, and smart," Balin continued, ignoring Thorin's interruption. "But you have to put the company first. There's something off about her backstory, and something just seems… _wrong_ with her." He paused. "And if these… these _suspicions_ continue, I need to know that you will be willing to remove her from the company."

Thorin flinched.

"Promise me, Thorin. The outcome of this quest has been decades in the planning, the making, the sacrificing. Please tell me that you won't throw it all away for the sake of one woman," Balin said, his eyes pleading.

"I promise," Thorin said hoarsely. "We will take back Erebor, Balin," he said, clapping the dwarf on the shoulder, who gave him a sad, proud smile. "We will. I swear it to you."

* * *

 **Thank you so much for reading! I know the history and the lore might be a little off in this chapter (I'm not very good at writing about that kind of stuff) but I hope my errors aren't too glaring. :P**

 **Please favorite, follow and review! :)**


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